The High Window by Raymond Chandler Read Free Book Online Page A

out, mugg. While you can still walk.”
    I looked at him in surprise. “Where’s your refinement?” I asked him. “And don’t tell me you wear a gun with your garden clothes.”
    The blond laughed, showing a fine strong set of teeth. Vannier thrust his hand under his left arm inside the shirt and set his lips. His black eyes were sharp and blank at the same time, like a snake’s eyes.
    “You heard me,” he said, almost softly. “And don’t write me off too quick. I’d plug you as soon as I’d strike a match. And fix it afterwards.”
    I looked at the blond. Her eyes were bright and her mouth looked sensual and eager, watching us.
    I turned and walked away across the grass. About halfway across it I looked back at them. Vannier stood in exactly the same position, his hand inside his shirt. The blond’s eyes were still wide and her lips parted, but the shadow of the umbrella had dimmed her expression and at that distance it might have been either fear or pleased anticipation.
    I went on over the grass, through the white gate and along the brick path under the rose arbor. I reached the end of it, turned, walked quietly back to the gate and took another look at them. I didn’t know what there would be to see or what I cared about it when I saw it.
    What I saw was Vannier practically sprawled on top of the blond, kissing her. I shook my head and went back along the walk.
    The red-eyed chauffeur was still at work on the Cadillac. He had finished the wash job and was wiping off the glass and nickel with a large chamois. I went around and stood beside him.
    “How you come out?” he asked me out of the side of his mouth.
    “Badly. They tramped all over me,” I said.
    He nodded and went on making the hissing noise of a groom rubbing down a horse.
    “You better watch your step. The guy’s heeled,” I said. “Or pretends to be.”
    The chauffeur laughed shortly. “Under that suit? Nix.”
    “Who is this guy Vannier? What does he do?”
    The chauffeur straightened up, put the chamois over the sill of a window and wiped his hands on the towel that was now stuck in his waistband.
    “Women, my guess would be,” he said.
    “Isn’t it a bit dangerous—playing with this particular woman?”
    “I’d say it was,” he agreed. “Different guys got different ideas of danger. It would scare me.”
    “Where does he live?”
    “Sherman Oaks. She goes over there. She’ll go once too often.”
    “Ever run across a girl named Linda Conquest? Tall, dark, handsome, used to be a singer with a band?”
    “For two bucks, Jack, you expect a lot of service.”
    “I  could build it up to five.”
    He shook his head. “I don’t know the party. Not by that name. All kinds of dames come here, mostly pretty flashy. I don’t get introduced.” He grinned.
    I got my wallet out and put three ones in his little damp paw. I added a business card.
    “I like small close-built men,” I said. “They never seem to be afraid of anything. Come and see me some time.”
    “I might at that, Jack. Thanks. Linda Conquest, huh? I’ll keep my ear flaps off.”
    “So long,” I said. “The name?”
    “They call me Shifty. I never knew why.”
    “So long, Shifty.”
    “So long. Gat under his arm—in them clothes? Not a chance.”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “He made the motion. I’m not hired to gunfight with strangers.”
    “Hell, that shirt he’s wearing only got two buttons at the top. I noticed. Take him a week to pull a rod from under that.” But he sounded faintly worried.
    “I guess he was just bluffing,” I agreed. “If you hear mention of Linda Conquest, I’ll be glad to talk business with you.”
    “Okay, Jack.”
    I went back along the black driveway. He stood there scratching his chin.

 
    SIX
    I drove along the block looking for a place to park so that I could run up to the office for a moment before going on downtown.
    A chauffeur-driven Packard edged out from the curb in front of a cigar store about thirty